


Presque vu

by bzarcher



Series: Rising Swan (The Odette AU) [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Memories, Names, Odette!AU, Post-Talon Widowmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8003512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wasn't Amélie. She didn't want to be Widowmaker. So who should she be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presque vu

When Lena had given her the book, Widowmaker was confused.

“’30,000 Beautiful Baby Names’? Are you trying to tell me something, _Cherie?_ ”

The shorter woman coughed, a blush rising on her cheeks as she looked in any direction but Widowmaker’s golden eyes.  “Not like that, luv. You told me the other day that you didn’t really like being called Widowmaker.”

“ _Assez vrai_ ,” she admitted. The book’s cover was annoyingly cliché, all pastel blues and pinks, but the inside was thankfully plain. Lists of names, arranged alphabetically, with explanations of the meanings behind them. “Thank you – that does make sense.”

It was a few days before she settled into a chair with the book in the small room that Winston and Morrison (who _did_ he think he was fooling with that mask, really?) had eventually allowed her to move into from the cell they’d confined her in while Mercy had performed a seemingly endless series of tests.

Her fingers moved almost against her will, flipping through the first few pages, then stopping as her eyes were drawn to a particular entry.

 **Amélie** – _French –_ Hard Working, Industrious, Striving.

She clucked her tongue softly against her teeth. It wasn’t her name – she felt a _wrongness_ each time someone used it to address her – but it wasn’t a bad name. She appreciated the meaning behind it a bit more, now. Amélie had been a dancer. Sometimes she had flashes of memory – hours spent in a studio, training her body. The endless rehearsals. Learning the difference between the soreness of a good day’s work and the pain of a more serious injury.

Amélie had died on an operating table, her mind torn apart and reassembled piece by piece. But she respected what that woman had been before Talon had destroyed her.

Her fingers flipped through the pages again. Enough of that. She scanned the names, looking for…something. A connection, she supposed. Something that didn’t feel like she was wearing a dead woman’s clothes.

The next name that caught her eye shouldn’t have surprised her.

 **Lena** (abbreviation of **Helena** ) – _Greek –_ Light.

Well, that wasn’t a surprise. An endless ball of energy, always looking for the positive, smiling at the least provocation. Even if you didn’t mention the constant glow from the glowing apparatus that anchored her in reality, ‘Light’ was a quality that Lena Oxton most certainly embodied.

Pages turned again. Interesting names. Amusing names. Boring or terribly cliché names. She suddenly remembered a classroom. She must have been young – there was a picture book in front of her. Learning to read? A little redheaded girl in a yellow hat was playing with a small dog.

“Madeline,” she whispered, surprising herself when she’d realized she had spoken aloud. The little girl in the book was Madeline, and there had been a girl in the class with the same name. They teased the little blonde, asking why her hair wasn’t red. Asking where her dog was. Asking if she lived with the nuns.

Amélie became friends with her, she suddenly recalled. They’d played games in the schoolyard. Amélie had felt guilty about teasing her, and decided to do better.

Interesting – but still not a name that fit her.

She’d gone back to scanning through more pages – she’d found that Madeline meant ‘High tower’, but it was quite a while before she felt something again.

 **Odette** – _French_ – Wealthy.

That name _meant_ something to her, but that wasn’t it.

She stewed over that for a few minutes before pulling out her phone and searching the internet. One of the very first hits was the image of a woman in a white costume, leaping on a stage. A role that Amélie had never performed, but always appreciated. She’d liked that so many productions gave Odette and her love a different fate – but nearly all were tragic.

 _Odette, Odette, Odette._ The more she repeated the name, the more she liked it.

Was she wealthy? Not monetarily, perhaps, but she had been given a second – arguably third – chance at her life, and that was beyond value.  

_Odette Lacroix?_

Yes, she would keep the last name. It was the least she could offer Amélie and Gérard, a memorial for them in her own little way.

_Odette Lacroix._

Yes, that would do.


End file.
